Poem
Jan Wagner
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make yourself heavier, they call. i closeboth eyes, thinking
of sacks of cement, iron foundries
and elephants, an anchor sinking
in deep mud while a fleet of whales
manoeuvres above it, an anvil’s
bullish head. for a while
i hold my breath and wait. to no avail:
nothing goes up, nothing goes down –
a pheasant screams, leaves fall – my legs,
too short, will never reach the ground,
my head is well-nigh in the clouds.
From: Self-portrait with a swarm of bees
Publisher: Arc Publications, Todmorden, 2015
Publisher: Arc Publications, Todmorden, 2015
WIP
maak je zwaarder, roepen ze, dus knijp ikmijn ogen dicht, ik denk aan zakken
vol cement en ijzergieterijen,
aan olifanten, aan het anker
in zijn modder, waar een manoeuvre
walvissen langsglijdt, aan de stierenkop
van een aambeeld. nu alleen maar even
adem inhouden en wachten. maar niets klimt of
daalt, terwijl ik een fazant hoor krijsen
en de bladeren vallen – mijn onwillige
benen te kort om ooit de grond te bereiken,
mijn hoofd haast in de wolken.
© Vertaling: 2017, Ria van Hengel
WIPPE
mach dich schwerer, rufen sie, also schließeich beide augen, denke
an säcke voll zement und eisengieße-
reien, elefanten, an den anker
in seinem schlamm, wo ein manöver wale
vorübergleitet, an das bullenhaupt
eines ambosses. nur eine weile
die luft anhalten, warten. doch nichts hebt
sich oder senkt sich, während ein fasan
schreit und die blätter fallen – meine unwilligen
beine zu kurz, um je den grund zu fassen,
mein kopf beinahe in den wolken.
From: Selbstporträt mit Bienenschwarm. Ausgewählte Gedichte 2001-2015
Publisher: Hanser Berlin Verlag, Berlin
Publisher: Hanser Berlin Verlag, Berlin
Poems
Poems of Jan Wagner
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SEE-SAW
make yourself heavier, they call. i closeboth eyes, thinking
of sacks of cement, iron foundries
and elephants, an anchor sinking
in deep mud while a fleet of whales
manoeuvres above it, an anvil’s
bullish head. for a while
i hold my breath and wait. to no avail:
nothing goes up, nothing goes down –
a pheasant screams, leaves fall – my legs,
too short, will never reach the ground,
my head is well-nigh in the clouds.
From: Self-portrait with a swarm of bees
Publisher: 2015, Arc Publications, Todmorden
Publisher: 2015, Arc Publications, Todmorden
SEE-SAW
make yourself heavier, they call. i closeboth eyes, thinking
of sacks of cement, iron foundries
and elephants, an anchor sinking
in deep mud while a fleet of whales
manoeuvres above it, an anvil’s
bullish head. for a while
i hold my breath and wait. to no avail:
nothing goes up, nothing goes down –
a pheasant screams, leaves fall – my legs,
too short, will never reach the ground,
my head is well-nigh in the clouds.
From: Self-portrait with a swarm of bees
Publisher: 2015, Arc Publications, Todmorden
Publisher: 2015, Arc Publications, Todmorden
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